“Ren!”

Ren yelps as he’s tossed across the field, landing in a mound of sand face-first. The cold seeps into his skin, burning his cheeks, as he props himself up on his elbows. He looks up at the figure standing over him, offering him a hand, and he takes it. Penny helps pull him to his feet, and Ren brushes the dirt off his cloak.

“You okay?” she asks.

Ren nods. That little fall was nothing. He’s suffered worse. The duo turns their attention back to the fierce fight at hand.

Vane deflects the slam of the Horseman’s sword, his blade clashing time and time again with his adversary’s. Gridel, on the other hand, fires arrow after arrow at the Horseman. However, her projectiles are either met with cold steel, or evaded entirely.

Even without an entire team of horses, even in a confined space such as this, the Horseman is holding his own pretty well against their assault. Ren sends a stream of fire at the rider, only for it to be reflected off his black blade and sent ricocheting into the tornado. The barrier of wind sucks it all up, dispersing the flames till they’re nothing but harmless embers.

The only thing they need to do is to get his heart, but the Horseman is defending it with all he’s got. Every time they attempt to attack the glowing crystal, the Horseman shields it with his body. He may grunt from the smash of Vane’s blade against his back, or wince at the piercing of Gridel’s arrow across his helmet, but he never once presented the heart as a viable target.

Penny rolls past his stampeding horse, aiming Mira at the crystal and stabbing upwards. At the last second, the Horseman yanks on his reins and veers away. The blade jabs into nothing, meeting thin air and clinking against the Horseman’s gauntlet. It chips the metal, but it does not stop Penny’s momentum.

She crashes against the Horseman’s steed, and the stallion bucks and rears. Vane scoops her up and away from danger, seconds before she would have fallen victim to the rampaging horse’s hooves. The equine neighs in surprise as Gridel sends bolts hurtling its way. Some of those shots slam into its flank, and black blood bursts from the wounds.

But the horse does not falter. If anything, it grows even more furious, charging at Gridel whilst the latter nocks another arrow.

Ren throws his arm out, Ifrit clutched tight between his fingers. A spiral of fire shoots forth from the orb, crimson against the white of the snow and the green of the winds. The blast of flames stops the Horseman in its tracks. He pulls on his reins, and his stallion halts abruptly. It stamps its hooves into the snow, leaving frantic hoofprints imprinted in the powder.

That distraction is enough for Gridel to send her next arrow soaring. It strikes the horse on the neck, and black droplets trickle out from the puncture. The horse tries to neigh, but all that comes out is a sickly gurgle as it collapses to the ground. The Horseman gives a cry, one arm outstretched—the one holding his sword—as he braces for the impact. The force of their fall whips up a cloud of snow, and Ren lifts an arm to shield his eyes from the blinding white.

When he next opens his eyes, he sees Penny and Vane lunge at the fallen Horseman. Their blades are raised, ready to be brought down on his heart. It’s hard to make out the details amidst the settling snow cloud, but—

A sudden sing of metal against metal has Ren going rigid. Penny screams as she is thrown back. Vane meets the blade head-on, both hands clenched tight around his sword. The Horseman springs up from where he collapsed, having removed his leg from under the horse’s body, the latter lying motionless and half-buried in the snow. He contests Vane’s strength, all ten fingers wrapped around his sword’s grip—

Wait. Ten fingers?

Where did his heart go?

Vane is pushed back, his feet dragging along the snow and leaving two short tracks. Setting him free from this deadlock is Penny cutting through with an arc of water. Vane stumbles back, bumping into and almost tripping over a stump. Staggering back as well, the Horseman draws a jagged line with his blade through the snow.

“Where did the heart go?” Gridel asks, loosing another arrow that the Horseman knocks away.

“He hid it!” Ren shouts. It’s the only logical conclusion—he’s not going to have sucked it into his body; if he could, he would have done it a long time ago. He could not have tossed it over the edge either—it would have been destroyed by the razor blades of the wind.

But where could he have hid it, is the real question. Ren thumbs at his chin, glancing from one corner of the barren field of snow to the other. Well, all things considered, there really is only one spot that it can be…

“Master Ren!”

Muscular arms grab his shoulders and shoves Ren to the ground. He hisses as his face hits the snow, again, teeth stinging as though he may have knocked them loose. Ren lifting his head from the freezing clumps, hating the way it feels like he’s bobbing for apples in a tub of icy water.

Vane rolls off him, raising his blade in time to meet the Horseman’s sword. The Horseman harrumphs, kicking off from the ground and landing a distance away. Ren wipes the snow stuck to his lips, and yells, “Check the snow! It’s buried in the snow!”

He fears the howl of the wind may have drowned out his voice, but relief washes over him when he hears Penny’s affirmation. Gridel drops to her knees, digging around with her bare hands.

Ren turns to Vane. “Go help Penny. I’m going to help Gridel.”

Vane nods and takes off towards the Horseman. Ren rushes over to where Gridel kneels, pawing at the ground like a dog looking for its treasured bone. Ren jams Ifrit into the snow, and a disc of fire swirls around the snow mounds.

The snow melts, turning into sloshing puddles beneath their feet. Ren keeps his eyes peeled for the tell-tale sparkle of the crystal. Vane and Penny can’t hold him off forever—they have to work fast.

All Ren’s fingers find are tangled roots, frozen grass and hard pebbles. The freezing water soon numbs his fingers, and Ren has to pull them out of the slush so that he doesn’t get frostbite.

“I found it!”

Ren glances over, eyes widening at the gleaming ore that Gridel clutches in her hands. As someone who’s held it in his arms the whole way from Beville to Gyldon, there’s no way that Ren can forget what the heart looks like. All they have to do now is to destroy it.

“No!” the Horseman hollers. He slashes in a wide arc, his sword catching Vane across the cheek and sending him crashing to the ground. The desperation is clear in his tone, clear in the haphazard swing of his blade.

Gridel reaches for a bolt, raising it high over the crystal. Ren draws up a wall of flames, hoping to deter the Horseman’s approach.

But it does not. The Horseman barrels through the fire, slicing at Gridel. She raises her arms in self-defence, his sword cutting her arrow in half. With the crystal tucked under her arm, Gridel hops aside, crossbow raised and readied.

Penny catches up to the Horseman, thrusting her dagger into the gap between helmet and breastplate. Their adversary screams, lurching forward, and he drops his sword. Gridel drops to a squat once more, her arrow poised to strike.

“No!” The Horseman tries to squirm free from Penny’s twisting blade. She straddles his back, removing her dirk and plunging it back into his neck. The Horseman screams again, collapsing back onto the snow. Ren smirks—letting the heart out of his sight, and away from his own grasp, was his biggest mistake.

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Gridel plunges the arrow into the crystal, driving its arrowhead into its chipping body. A bright flash of light assaults Ren’s eyes, and he has to squint to shield them from the glare. The Horseman’s anguished, drawn-out shriek echoes in his ears.

As if on cue, the whoosh around them disappears. The winds have died down, the cyclone dissipated, leaving the landscape bared for the four of them to see. Ren blinks a few times, trying to erase the dark silhouette of the crystal appearing on the back of his lids.

Gridel is panting, sitting back on her feet as she kneels in the snow, surrounded by the sparkling remnants of the crystal. Penny rises, dusting snow off her cloak and trousers. Vane nurses the large gash across his cheek, blood trickling between his fingers.

“Holy shit, you’re hurt,” Ren cries. Gridel springs to her feet, already reaching for her herbs and bandages.

“It’s not that bad,” Vane says.

Penny shoots him a look. “Do you really want to try that with us right now?”

Gridel does some basic first aid, wrapping a rudimentary bandage around Vane’s head to staunch the flow of blood. Soaring above their heads is Sylph, Her serpentine body circling the mountain peak. Ren waves at her, and She descends, hovering just over them.

“Well done, Luminaries,” Sylph says, Her beady eyes darting from Ren, to Penny, then to Vane and Gridel. “That was a battle well-fought.”

Penny laughs. “You probably couldn’t even see half of it, though.”

Sylph bows Her head. “I could sense the energy that you gave off. The sheer determination manifested as the fires in your hearts. To free Zenthos from the Horsemen that plagues it… I salute you, dear Luminaries.”

They waste no time in clambering onto Sylph’s body. Ren hoists himself up onto Her back, and he helps Penny and Vane up. Gridel climbs up last, digging her toes in between Sylph’s scales. With a mighty beat of Her wings, Sylph takes to the skies, whipping up a ferocious snowstorm in Her wake.

Clouds whisk by them as they travel across the land. The snow appears brighter, the air a little warmer, as they weave through the blue of the sky. Beville passes by below them, a city stained by greed and gluttony. Gyldon can be seen in the distance… or, well, its smoking ruins anyway. The Horseman’s palace soon comes into view. A lone structure in the middle of the tundra, not far from the crash of the waves and the sea breeze.

Sylph gently lowers them to the ground a distance from the temple, so as not to damage the structure with her bulk. Standing outside, with his cane in hand and a mirthful smile on his face, is none other than Chief Grimm. Beside him are three children, with wide grins and positively buzzing with excitement.

“There you are!” Tiv yells.

“You’re back!” Zan cries.

“And with a souvenir, I see.” Chief Grimm chuckles, gesturing at Vane’s face. Vane sighs, touching the wound self-consciously, only to wince and withdraw his hand.

“We have medicine,” Wax says, scuffing his soles against the ground. “Analgesics and all that.”

Gridel nods. “I gave him some, don’t worry about it.”

“Well now, I daresay a celebration is in order,” Chief Grimm says, a twinkle in his eye. “The food’s being prepared right this instant. Do take your time and rest up. Today’s lunch and dinner will be hearty meals.”

Ren can almost taste it already—piping hot soup flowing down his throat, the tenderness of Bugbear meat, the crispiness of salads with vegetables grown in this freezing climate. Penny cheers, and the children join in. Tiv and Zan drags Gridel and Vane into the temple, hollering about medicine and patching Vane up.

“Are you not going to join us?” Penny asks, glancing over at Sylph.

Sylph giggles, and She shakes Her head. “How very kind of you to ask, Luminary. However, with my size, I’m afraid I’m unable to enter the temple without causing irreparable damage.”

Penny frowns. “Well, I guess you’ve got a good point…”

“Besides, I did nothing more than to ferry you to the site of battle. The ones who truly overcame the Horseman’s strength are you and your companions.”

And the one to pierce the Horseman’s heart is Aerius. Well, close enough, anyway.

Penny joins Ren at the entrance to the temple, and the duo heads down to the underground. Back to a bath, back to soft beds and away from the cold.

*

The celebrations kick off without a hitch. Food piles high on the plates on the long tables: Bugbear skewers, Wendigo steak, Duskbell stew, and many more. Children are playing around, caught in games of tag or hide-and-seek, both Hal’s army and Gyldon residents alike. Even the injured are up and about, chattering happily with each other.

And, of course, the Luminaries take centre stage. Scores of people line up to grasp their hand and shake it. Thanking them for the good deed they’ve done for Frosgott. Now, no-one has to live in fear of the Horseman, nor the plague he brought with him. The region has returned to how it was like two, three centuries ago.

Ren responds to the gratefulness with his usual meek smile and “You’re welcome”s. Penny is the one with the bright grin, thanking them for their thanks, and asking them whether they’re all right.

Ren can finally breathe a sigh of relief when the crowd lessens.

“Greetings.”

He looks up at the man who approaches them: Mavell, who seems to have recovered from his injuries. His face is still covered with bandages, his limbs looking like a mummy’s, but at least he’s no longer limping.

Penny nods in acknowledgement. “Hey, Mavell.”

Mavell bows his head. “Like others before me, I must give my thanks to you for banishing the Horseman. I am filled with immeasurable relief that my family would not grow up with the plague.”

“Glad that we can be of service.”

“You freed us. From not just the plague, but also the tyranny that the Minister had wrought upon my beloved city,” Mavell says. “I followed her orders out of fear that she would do something to my family, and… made choices that I wish I would not have made.” He sighs. “Is there… Is there anything that I can do to make up for the trouble that I have caused you?”

“Well…” Penny mumbles. “You promise that you will work hard for the good of Beville?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Then that’s all we ask of you. Right, Ren?” Penny shoots him an expectant look.

Ren nods. “Yeah. I mean, Beville’s kind of lacking a minister now, right? I don’t think that Berg would be allowed back into the Clocktower…”

“We would have to hold an election to choose the next minister, yes,” Mavell says.

“Maybe you should run,” Penny says. “You know, like as a… a candidate. You make a good Captain of the Guard. You might make an even better minister.”

Mavell’s eyes widen. “Me? A minister?”

“Well, it’s just a suggestion,” Penny says. “You should run only if you want to.”

The Captain looks like he’s deep in thought, brows knitted together and lips pulled taut. “I see. I will take your suggestion into account, then.” He bows and thanks them again, before shuffling back into the mass of shifting bodies.

As the party draws to a close, Ren finds himself tired. To a much greater degree than fighting with the Horseman made him. The villagers help to clean up the place, with some of them ferrying the children back to their beds.

“How did you enjoy yourself?” Chief Grimm asks, hobbling up to them.

“It’s okay,” Ren says. “I’ve just… never been one for parties.”

Chief Grimm nods. “Neither is Gridel, and your other friend, Vane. They’ve long since retreated to their rooms.”

Penny laughs. “I can totally see that happening.” She glances around at the party that is now winding down. “Shall we help clean up?”

“It is nothing short of disrespectful if we let our guests and saviours do the dirty work.” Chief Grimm shakes his head. “No, you will need your rest if you are to continue your journey tomorrow. Leave this place to us.”

“Speaking of which…” Penny frowns. “Do you know the fastest way to Ruk’vahn from here, Chief?”

“Ruk’vahn?”

“Yeah. Like, that’s where the last Horseman is supposed to be.”

“I…” Chief Grimm lowers his gaze, as though in shame. “I loathe to admit it, but I have no idea. I have never even heard of the place before.”

Ren bites the insides of his cheeks, pressing his lips together in a thin line. If Chief Grimm doesn’t know, then—

“South of this temple. It’s a long walk, so ask Sylph to take you.”

Ren turns at the voice, to find a familiar Berg, or Genmiol, striding up to them, her arms crossed over her chest. She’s dressed in a nondescript cream-coloured robe, much like the ones that all of Gyldon’s villagers wear. Ren must say, it’s a little strange not seeing her in those elegant minister’s robes.

“And how did you come by this information?” Chief Grimm asks. Not out of suspicion, but curiosity, if his tone is any indication.

“Beville’s archives,” Berg says nonchalantly. “I chanced upon an atlas some time back, and had it memorised. Never know when you would need to know the lay of the land.”

Penny smiles. “Thanks, Berg.”

Berg harrumphs. “I just overheard and thought I’d volunteer the information. I’m not looking for thanks.”

“Actually, do you mind lending us this atlas?” Ren asks. “It shows places other than Frosgott, right?”

“I have seen Ruk’vahn’s map on it, yes, as well as Ilecthia’s,” Berg says. “However, I may have had my position as minister revoked. You’ll have to find another way to get into the archives.”

“Do you think Mavell can help?” Penny asks. “Like, he’s still part of the government, right?”

It’s certainly worth a shot. They’ll ask the man about it tomorrow, then. Worst comes to worst, they’d just have to rely on Berg’s vague directions and try to locate the region themselves.

With that settled, Berg spins on her heels and trots back down a corridor, presumably headed back to her room. Penny yawns, and she declares that she’s going straight to bed. Ren agrees with the notion, acutely feeling the drowsiness creeping up on him.

Chief Grimm wishes them a good night, and he promises to greet them in the morning before they left. Ren retires to his room, where his roommate, Vane, is still up reading a book (probably from the temple’s library) by candlelight.

“Not sleeping yet?” Ren asks.

Vane shuts his book, and places it on the ground beside the crude cot. “I was waiting for your return.”

Ren settles down on his bed, sinking into the fluffy leaves and ferns. Truly, these plants serve them well as beds. He lets out a satisfied groan. “Well, I’m back. We can sleep now.”

Vane blows the flame out, and Ren rolls onto his side. He shuts his eyes, curling into a foetal position. Very soon, he’s drifted off into dreamland, with naught but the whistle of wind outside to keep him company.